Fear of Capture: A Love Story
by Verus Lumen
Summary: Hermione is on a mission to capture the elusive criminal, Severus Snape. What she finds though, is definitely not what she expected.
1. Afternoon Tea

Fear of Capture: A Love Story

Afternoon Tea

Disclaimer: I don't own 'Arry Pottuh…or Harry Potter... and none of the characters unless I decide to make some up later. Story's mine though, at least I think it is…

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Hermione Granger was beginning to believe that he actually was guilty of all those charges. At first, she had been so sure, despite Harry's outraged protests, that Professor Severus Snape had committed those various crimes for the sake of the greater good. But now, given all this fresh information, she wasn't so sure.

It was easy for her to dismiss Albus Dumbledore's death, despite the pain it caused her. It was an obvious necessity if Professor Snape was to continue his role as a Death Eater without suspicion. His running from the school grounds was yet another necessity.

She had had something of a falling out with Harry and Ron - they hadn't agreed on several things, including the role of Severus Snape. So the boys were off finding the Horcruxes. She was fine with that - it was a job that needed to be done in any case. Her last real conversation with the boys had been in October.

But she had a strange feeling that there was somewhere she needed to be as well. And so she left the boys to their business and began to track the only one who truly confused her. It was now deep into December, with snow falling so close as to create a sea of white.

Severus Snape was sitting down to afternoon tea.

"Mark - seventeen paces. I can feel him here" Hermione whispered, pressing the electric device closer to her ear. She spoke into a tiny microphone, completely devoid of any magical qualities.

She had learned that the best way to track Professor Snape would be through Muggle means, of which he hadn't an inkling.

"Copy that, Hannah. We'll bring the car around. Do you think you can grab him?" Matthew responded, trying to mask his California accent.

"No. Don't come. I'll call you when I'm done. For now, go to Position D."

"Yes, Ma'am." Hermione could sense, perhaps through means of magic, that he had already left the area. Satisfactory, as none of her Muggle associates knew what she truly was.

She avoided using magic when she could, but he would not have enough warning to run at this point. She pulled her wand out from the little holster she had created, strapped to her leg.

She whispered a little spell underneath her breath, and the hidden staircase beneath the snow was revealed. Now for the hard part.

She dug for two minutes, using a shovel and a pickaxe. The snow had hardened into sheets of ice above the little door that led to Snape's hiding place. He must not have left his warded rooms for ages.

Finally, she hit something with a small thud - the door. Quietly, she removed the snow from its latch and hinges, closing it behind her as she climbed in. Somehow, from some memory that wasn't quite hers, she knew which direction to go.

Hermione turned into the kitchen area, where the faint smell of tea was emanating. A small spoon clattered on the wooden floor, and Hermione pointed her wand to the space of air between herself and the stove.

"Show yourself, Severus Snape," she commanded, through the muffled voice her mask provided.

Another clatter from the direction of the stove, but she knew better. He had moved towards the door from which she'd come, and had attempted a diversion by means of wandless magic.

She pointed her wand toward the door and said quietly, "_Petrificus Totalus_"

Yet another muted thud, and Professor Snape's body suddenly appeared, rigid on the ground.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Snape," Hermione said, tucking her wand into her sleeve.

No response.

"Do you have any questions as to my intrusion?" she asked. When he didn't respond, she suddenly remembered he couldn't speak.

So she looked around in his underground cabin and located some tweedy looking rope. Grunting somewhat, she bent down to tie up his hands and feet, which she then tied together so that his wrists were tied to his ankles behind his back.

"_Finite Incantatum" _she murmured, nearly laughing at the incredibly silly and childish spell she had used to subdue him.

Snape eyed her from the floor, unable to move much.

"Who sent you?" Snape spat, resolving not to wriggle too much so he wouldn't appear ridiculous.

She glared at him through her goggles - he had yet to see her face, and she would prefer to keep it that way. "I sent me."

"Have you come to kill me?" he asked, somewhat matter-of-factly.

"Perhaps. But most likely later," Hermione said, contemplating her wand.

"That always means no. I assume you've been sent by Dumbledore," he said, eying her boots.

"Albus Dumbledore is dead, as you well know," she said, her voice somewhat shaky. His innocence seemed to be impossible at this point.

He rolled his eyes and clunked his head back onto the floor. And lay there.

"Professor Severus Snape." she repeated, attempting to elicit some response. She knew that somehow, he carried an answer - she needed to know.

"Yes?" a voice came from behind her, causing her to shriek. The body on the floor suddenly transformed into a dog, panting on the floor.

Hermione wheeled around, shock evident in her eyes, even through the tempered plastic of her snow-goggles.

Her gasp was muffled by his hand on her lower face, covering what would be her mouth and nose if her mask wasn't in the way. He slammed her head and upper body very quickly, and very hard, into the corner of his kitchen table. A very loud thud later, she sprawled on the floor. To his surprise, she was still conscious.

"S-stop. Professor…" Hermione whispered, clutching the back of her head. She could feel the warmth of blood oozing slowly out into her hair. Her scalp was tender and bloody.

"No. Whoever you are, you came down here knowing full well that I'm a murderer. Who sent you?" he asked, kicking her ribs once, and he attempted to kick her again before she caught his foot in her hands. She slowly twisted until his ankle forced him to bend his knee and swivel backwards, where she tried to choke him into submission with the rope she had used to tie up his transfigured double.

He elbowed her in the face and her goggles flew off, revealing a set of familiar brown eyes. He glared at her, still unable to recognize precisely who she was.

Hermione fell back onto the floor, covering her left eye with her hands. She was crying or bleeding, but it was wet and it was warm. She suspected it was a little of both.

"Who sent you?" Severus repeated, rubbing his throat with his hands - he had come very nearly to choking.

"I already told you. Now lie down and let me tie you up!" Hermione screamed, somewhat disoriented by the massive blood loss in the back of her head. Her hair was a stringy mass of blood and curls. Her step staggered, and she accidentally slammed her shoulder against his kitchen wall, slowly sliding down the edge of it. Severus noted the streak of blood that followed.

"I have a better idea," he said, coming at her slowly. Her vision went dark, but the last image in her head was a set of deep, black eyes, devoid of any emotion.

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	2. Connections

Fear of Capture: A Love Story

Connections

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"Matthew! What are you doing?" A small voice cut through the static of his headpiece.

"Shh….She was here this morning. She never came to the rendezvous point. I'm worried," he whispered briskly. There was a sleepless edge to his voice, the biting wind cut his words short.

"Wait…. She never showed?" A sweep of dread washed over Matthew. Very few things could make Hannah late. This, certainly, had never happened before. He should have more people with him. He should have brought the entire team to investigate what could have possibly slowed Hannah. She was the weapons expert. She was the tactics expert.

The voice sizzled out as the wind increased, throwing snow over him and forcing him to fall over. Finally, he saw the little door, covered in snow though it was. His belly was lying directly on the snow, but he managed to reach the latch. Pulling slowly, he closed his eyes when the warmth emitted from the shaft seeped into his skin, rejuvenating him.

He pulled his gun up in front of him as he crawled into the little space. His feet were already frozen, but he didn't care. He only cared about finding Hannah.

A grenade threatened to slip out of one of his many vest pockets as he tried to lower himself onto the floor. He tried to ease the grenade back in by shaking his back a bit, but only managed to dislodge it and send it tumbling to the ground.

A thud and a rattle later, he heard cautious steps coming toward him. Immediately he threw himself onto the ground and pulled his gun up in front of him. He could get a decent shot - a head shot.

The footsteps came closer, yet Matthew could not be sure if it was or wasn't Hannah. He refrained from shooting.

Suddenly, a red light came and enveloped him. He couldn't move, but his entire body tensed, including his fingers. By no intention of his own, he began shooting erratically into the far wall of the hallway as his fingers contracted. The gun hadn't gone useless in all that snow. He collapsed further onto the ground and then heard one of the shots connect. More than one, if he was lucky.

A bright, green light came his way, completely enveloping him. The pressure from the gun eased, and soon there was no pressure at all.

Hermione woke up slowly, still feeling the ache in the back of her head. Her left eye…she couldn't see anything out of it. It hurt like hell to try to open it. She tried to touch it, but then realized her wrists were tied together behind her.

It was dark. So dark that she couldn't even see herself. She did, however, manage to see the little crack of light that indicated a doorway. She was placed in a corner somewhere, as she could feel the pressure of two walls against her back. She was in a closet.

Hermione scooted forward, increasing her headache but still managing to get closer to the door. Leaning back, she pounded against the door with both her feet, attempting to break it open. It didn't work, but she kept trying. If anything, it would earn the attention of Professor Snape, wherever he was. Though she didn't particularly favor the idea of getting hit by him, she was fairly sure that he was not going to kill her if he hadn't already. He must have seen her face and figured out who she was.

The third time she raised her legs to pound against the door, it miraculously opened.

She squinted her eyes to adjust to the sudden outpouring of light, but she soon recognized Snape leaning in the doorway.

"Miss Granger, I don't know why you came, but I assume you want me alive." He winced as he said this, clutching his side. She noticed he was bleeding profusely from that area - she couldn't have given him such an injury in their tussle earlier. This was new.

"Do you know how to remove a bullet?" he asked, sweat dripping from his brow.

She stared at him, fear clutching at her. He couldn't die. She had worked so hard to find him, to find the truth. He couldn't die. "Yes," she gasped.

Silent magic, a wave of his wand, and her hands were untied. She couldn't feel either arm anyway. They'd fallen asleep a long time ago. Soon, she realized, she'd be feeling the awful pain associated with having her hands tied up.

She felt the blood rush through her arms down to her fingertips. For a moment, she couldn't move, but the blood traveled quickly enough. All she would have to worry about now was the sudden heart attack that might occur when cold blood returned to her heart.

Either way, Snape was in front of her, and he was slowly dying. Cautiously standing up, she stepped out of the closet and offered him her arm. He took it, relieved that he didn't have to hold up his own weight anymore. She ignored the prickling pain shooting up and down her arms.

Down he went, onto the floor. She returned to the kitchen to fetch a knife and when she got back, he was offering her his wand. Hermione had no idea where he'd hidden hers. Magic was a blessing when it came to medicine. She didn't need anything but the wand, in all honesty.

She preferred to use the knife.

Several times, he'd almost fallen asleep and she'd had the pleasure of slapping him awake.

She assumed he had gone out and gotten himself shot, spying or perhaps something else. After she had removed two bullets located in basically the same spot, she realized that these were bullets she knew.

He was glaring at her from the ground.

"What is it?" he asked, wincing slightly as he sat up.

"I know this bullet. It's from a Colt M16. We use these…" she whispered apprehensively. The bullets were fairly common - most automatic rifles used the 45 millimeter standard. But she assumed he'd been shot by a handgun.

He sighed and closed his eyes. He was helpless. "Go. His body is near the shaft."

Her one good eye went wide with shock. "Matthew!" she whispered as she stood up, walking quickly away from him.

A feeling akin to panic kept shooting up and down her spine. Hermione hoped against hope that it wasn't him, but she knew that was impossible. Who else would have followed her down here?

Slowly, Hermione made her way towards the hallway that led to the shaft. She winced in obvious discomfort when she got there. The smell of singed metal was overwhelming - there was a metallic taste to the air. Bullets were still dripping back out of the wall into which they were shot, scattering on the floor. An entire magazine had been shot erratically - this sloppy work was very unlike the Matthew she knew. It gave her a little hope.

Coming near to the body, though, she realized it couldn't possibly be anybody else. The purple lowlights in his hair was enough to identify him. She eased the gun out of his deadlocked fingers. Tears dripped down onto her cheek, and it reminded her that she was still half blind. Her left eye would no longer open. There was a thick layer of crust over it as well, and it was too painful for her to try to remove the scabbing that prevented her eye from opening. She felt as if it were welded to her eyeball.

Trying not to think about it, she turned Matthew's body over, face up. His eyes were open, but clouded over. The residue from the shots had settled into his eyes as well. If he were alive, he would be blind.

Finding nothing for it, she left his body there. There was still so much to be done, and this was still her mission.

She removed most of his other firearms. He had come especially armed this time - perhaps out of worry for her. She wouldn't cry. The last thing she needed was to show weakness before Snape. She took Matthew's vest. The many pockets contained five magazines of ammunition for the M16, several hand grenades and two smoke bombs. For some reason, he carried a medical supply kit filled with the standard military issue, but also several needles full of adrenaline.

Needles. She put those back in the vest and zipped it up around herself.

It fit quite snugly, even though it had been on a man. He was skinny for a good reason, she supposed. It was never good to have lose articles in combat.

She returned to Professor Snape, watching him warily as he struggled to sit up straight in his chair. She still had his wand. Unless he had hers, he was defenseless.

"Why did you kill him?" she demanded. "Couldn't you have simply used _Petrificus Totalus_?"

He didn't even bother to tell her that he had, and that the spell itself had caused the lethal barrage of bullets.

"It was necessary," he said, seemingly unconcerned.

She took this response quietly. If Professor Severus Snape said it was necessary, it most likely was. Poor Matthew.

"Why did you come here, Miss Granger?" he asked, troubled. "And why are you so…armed?"

He gestured toward her gear, her brown combat boots.

She considered him for a moment, and all those things she'd planned to say to him, all the questions she'd wanted to ask seemed nonsensical for a moment. This man in front of her had nothing to offer. He was weary and injured, and he seemed to have cut contact with the outside world.

Simply put, he was in hiding.

Suddenly, she heard a deep growling noise and scratching at the far door. Alarmed, she released the catch for the M16's magazine and put in a fresh one.

"Don't bother. It's just the dog. Let him in." She stared at Snape, and opened the door. The dog ran in, shook off and toddled off somewhere. It was a rather large dog.

"I'm here because you killed Albus Dumbledore," she said, still staring after the dog.

"If you mean to take your revenge, extracting bullets from my person is probably not the best course of action," he replied nonchalantly. "Also, you might want to let me take a look at that eye. Can you see out of it?"

Surprised at his concern, she shook her head. "No, I can't even open it."

He motioned for her to come closer and she did, albeit cautiously. She was confused. There were so many things she had planned to do once she found him, but this situation never crossed her mind. If Snape really was on their side, she wouldn't need to tread so lightly.

He snatched his wand back, and for a moment she feared that he had tricked her. But he cast a silent spell, and her eye cleared up. All of the grime and crust that had stuck to it, trapping it closed, had disappeared.

"How is it now?" he asked, staring directly into her left eye. A chunk off the middle was simply missing. He had gouged it out with her own goggles during the fight.

"I can't see," she whispered. "I can't see out of it."

"You will need to have it removed, eventually," he informed her. She closed both her eyes when he said this. The sting from keeping the left eye open was far worse than the crusting over had been. It was swelling at an alarming rate as it was.

She nodded silently, attempting not to cry. It wasn't such a great loss, really. It's not as if she had lost a limb. Or her life. That thought sent her back to Matthew, who was still lying on the bare wood floor.

"Miss Granger, I've no intention of killing you. I will use a memory charm and you will go back to your people, understood?" he said, gritting his teeth. It would be hard to explain her injuries and her dead comrade.

"Absolutely not, Professor," she responded. "I came here to…" She trailed off.

Her intentions varied upon whatever it was that she found. If she found him to be a true Death Eater, her mission would be to kill him. And if he was on her side, she had come to help him.

"To?" He pressed, needing an answer perhaps just as much she did.

"If I'm correct…the night you killed Headmaster Dumbledore was also the night you lost the trust of the Order. That same night, you gained a high level of trust with both Voldemort and his Death Eaters. You…you only killed him because you had to, in order to remain a trusted member of Voldemort's closest circle. If I'm correct, you have no means of communication with the Order that wouldn't have you immediately killed." She gripped her gun for some reason, perhaps fearful that she had been wrong all along.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "How would someone like you be privy to this information?"

"I…I stole Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve, Sir." She bit her tongue. Why had she called him Sir? "I stole Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve. Several agents from the Ministry had broken into the room immediately after I had. I took what I thought were the most important things with me. I took his Phoenix, too, but he flew off. I think he went to see Harry Potter." She was reporting to him. Had she already allied with him? He never really answered her, but she was nervous now. She clutched her gun, but at the same time couldn't imagine actually shooting him.

"Would you be willing to act as a messenger?" he asked. He looked apprehensive.

She felt the same way. He could easily be tricking her into spying on the Order for his Death Eaters. But that just…didn't make any sense to her. The memories she had witnessed in the Pensieve. She had seen his anguish. Dumbledore had demanded so many things from him.

"_Kill me if you have to, Severus. You must protect the boy."_

"Professor Snape, I will."

She let go of her gun, she let it swing to her side.

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